An ordinary man experiences pleasant, painful, and neutral
feelings, and so does the instructed noble disciple. What,
then, is the distinction, the division, the difference between
them? When an ordinary man is touched by a painful feeling,
he worries, grieves, laments, beats his breast, weeps, and
is distraught. Therefore, he experiences a bodily feeling
and a mental feeling. It is as if a man were pierced by
a dart, and, following the first piercing, he were hit by
a second dart. He would experience the feelings caused by
both darts. So it is with the ordinary man. Having been
touched by a painful feeling, he resists and resents it.
Thus, a deep tendency of resistance and resentment comes
into being. Under the impact of that painful feeling, he
then proceeds to enjoy sensual happiness. Why does he do
so? It is because the ordinary man knows no other escape
from painful feelings except the enjoyment of sensual happiness.
Then, in enjoying sensual happiness, a deep tendency to
lust for pleasant feelings comes into being. He does not
know as it really is the arising and ending of those feelings,
their satisfaction, their danger, or the escape from them.
In lacking this knowledge, the deep tendency to ignorance
about neutral feelings comes into being. Therefore, whether
he feels a pleasant, painful, or neutral feeling, he feels
it as one fettered by it. He is fettered to birth, old age
and death, and to sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief, and
despair. He is, I declare, fettered to suffering.

When the instructed noble disciple is touched by a painful
feeling, however, he does not worry, grieve or lament; he
does not beat his breast or weep; nor is he distraught.
He experiences only one feelinga bodily one and not
a mental one. It is as if a man were pierced by a dart,
but was not pierced by the second dart. So it is with the
instructed noble disciple. Having been touched by that painful
feeling, he neither resists nor resents it. Therefore, no
deep tendency for resistence or resentment comes into being.
Hence, in consequence of the painful feeling, he does not
proceed to enjoy sensual happiness. Why not? It is because
he knows of an escape from painful feeling other than by
enjoying sensual happiness. Then, in not enjoying sensual
happiness, no deep tendency to lust for a pleasant feeling
comes into being. He knows as it really is the arising and
ending of those feelings, their satisfaction, their danger,
and the escape from them. Knowing this, no deep tendency
to ignorance as to neutral feelings comes into being. Therefore,
whether he feels a pleasant, painful or neutral feeling,
he feels it as one free from it. He is free from birth,
old age and death, and from sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief,
and despair. He is, I declare, free from suffering.
Samyutta Nikaya IV, 207

Living
Happily

Thus
have I heard. Once the Blessed One was staying near Alavi,
lodging on the leaf- strewn ground of a cattle track in
a simsapa grove.
At that time, Hatthaka of Alavi passed by. When he saw the
Blessed One, he approached, saluted the Blessed One, and
sat down at one side. So seated, he spoke to the Blessed
One thus:
"Pray, Venerable Sir, does the Blessed One live happily?"
"Yes, Prince, I live happily. Among those in the world
who live happily, I am one."
"But, Venerable Sir, the winter nights are cold, and
this is a week when there is frost. Hard is the ground trampled
by the hoofs of cattle; thin is the spread of leaves; sparse
are the leaves on the trees; thin are the saffron robes;
and the wind blows cold. Yet the Blessed One says that he
lives happily and that he is one of those in the world who
live happily."
"Now, Prince, I shall put a question to you about this,
and you may reply as you think fit. What do you think? Suppose
a householder or a householder's son has a house with gabled
roof, plastered inside and out, protected against the wind,
with fastened door bolts and windows closed. In the house
there is a couch, spread with a black, long-fleeced, woolen
rug a bed-spread of white wool, a coverlet embroidered with
flowers, and an exquisite antelope skin. This couch has
a canopy overhead and scarlet cushions at each end. There
is a lamp burning, and his four wives attend on him pleasantly.
What do you think, Prince? Would that man live happily or
not?"
"He would surely live happily, Venerable Sir. He would
be one of those in the world who live happily."
"Well, what do you think, Prince? Might there not arise
in that householder or householder's son distress of body
or mind, caused by greed, so that, bothered by that, he
would live unhappily?"
"Yes, Venerable Sir, that is possible."
"Now, Prince, that greed, which could cause distress
of body and mind in that householder and disturb him, has
been abandoned by the Tathagata, cut off at the root, made
like a palm-tree stump, unable to grow again, unable to
arise in future. That is why I live happily.
"Again, what do you think, Prince? Might there not
arise in that householder or householder's son distress
of body or mind, caused by hatred or delusion, so that,
bothered by that, he would live unhappily?"
"Yes, Venerable Sir, that is possible."
"Now, Prince, that hatred and that delusion, which
could cause distress of body and mind in that householder
and disturb him have been abandoned by the Tathagata, cut
off at the root, made like a palm-tree stump, unable to
grow again, unable to arise in future. That is why I live
happily."
Anguttara Nikaya III, 4, 34

The
Mountains

In
Savatthi, the Kosalan King Pasenadi, came to see the Buddha,
who asked him:

"What
do you think, O King? Suppose a loyal and trustworthy man
were to come to you from the east and say: Your majesty,
you should know that I have come from the east and that
there I saw a great mountain as high as the sky, moving
forward, crushing all living creatures in its path. Do whatever
you deem right, sire.'

"And
then suppose a second man were to come from the west . .
. a third from the north . . . a fourth from the south and
say: Your majesty, you should know that I have come
from the south and that there I saw a great mountain as
high as the sky, moving forward, crushing all living creatures
in its path. Do whatever you deem right, sire.'

"When
such a mighty peril threatens, O King, when a great danger
of terrible destruction to human life approaches, and considering
that a human birth is so difficult to obtain, what could
you do?"

"When
such a mighty peril threatens, Lord, when a great danger
of terrible destruction to human life approaches, and considering
that a human birth is so difficult to obtain, what else
could I do but practice Dhamma, live calmly, do good, and
make merit?"

"I
tell you, O King, I put it to you: old age and death will
come upon you. Since old age and death are coming, what
is it you can do?"

"Since
old age and death are coming upon me, what else can I do
but practice Dhamma, live calmly, do good, and make merit?"

Samyutta
Nikaya III 3,5

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